


Be Natural

by Jetaime18647



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU, Dancer Allura, F/M, M/M, Marching Band, Marching Band AU, Shiro - Freeform, assistant director - Freeform, band director coran, highschool, klance, lance and keith are trumpet players, they pronoun for pidge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 22:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12466836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jetaime18647/pseuds/Jetaime18647
Summary: Lance's school year couldn't be going any better. He's finally a senior at Garrison Preparatory . His friends are amazing (sometimes even Keith is alright). He's first chair of the trumpet section (Keith is second which makes it even better). He's getting closer to asking Nyma out every day despite what Hunk and Pidge think of her. All he needs is for Pidge to change their place in the marching drill to give him his shot. However, things quickly go to shit and suddenly Lance's school year comes to a grinding halt with a single word document.“I’m---I’m not the section leader?”





	Be Natural

Be Natural

**Snap-backs and Hacking**

“If I get detention for this, I will delete your life. Do I make myself clear, Lance?”

Lance only offered a roll of his eyes and a promise to watch the door. It was in that moment that Pidge came to the cold conclusion that Lance Sanchez was the most trumpet, trumpet player to ever grace the halls of Garrison Preparatory. Clad with a galaxy print snap-back, basketball shorts, and a black shirt with the phrase: “Stand on my dot, I’ll stand on your grave” written across it, Lance was the definition of a loud and proud trumpet player.

Which would make sense seeing how he currently sits as the trumpet section leader.

As obnoxious as he is, and Pidge will be the first the verify this trait in him, he actually manages his section well. The trumpets, while still brash and unruly, have managed to contain themselves enough to not cause a major disturbance at every away game this season. The few that weren’t taken by Lance’s natural charm were taken by Keith Kogane, the trumpet section’s second chair. Namely they were taken by his glare and quick retorts to: “shut the actual fuck up”. For two boys that swore that they hated each other, they actually made a great team.

Shiro’s computer made a small approval tone before opening. Tucked in the back of the band director’s office, Pidge let out a small chuckle.

“I’m in.”

Pidge couldn’t help the smirk at Lance’s whoop of approval and Hunk’s complementary groan. Hunk had all but thrown himself on the couch on the opposite wall of the director’s office upon entering. It was a pretty easy setup in retrospect. Lance would pick the lock, Pidge would hack into the computer and Hunk would be the good influence attempting to stop their shenanigans.

“Guys, if Shiro or Director Coran finds us in here, we are dead. I hate to the voice of reason but we are committing what is potentially a crime for Lance right now. In fact, I am 99% sure this is in fact, a crime.”

Hunk, for all of his protests, still came along with this adventure for reasons completely unbeknownst to Pidge. Maybe, he actually liked the thrill? Or maybe he just wanted to be right if they did get caught.

“Gees, I’m almost done with lover boy’s mission!”

Perhaps, it was their fault for allowing such dangerous blackmail material into Lance’s hands. Who knew that “let’s have some intersectional bonding” was code for “let’s you, me, and Hunk get tipsy in our dorm suite until you say something about a certain marching band director assistant that you can never take back”. The only blessing was that they came to the agreement that this piece of information could only be used for blackmail just once and nothing more. The downside was the payout of said blackmail.

Honestly, Lance should just a grow a pair and ask Nyma out.

Having Pidge rearrange the new drill they would learn later this week for the finale practice so she would be conveniently next to him was low. Even worst was that neither Hunk or Pidge approved of her and Lance was still gunning for the 5’10 princess. It was revolting to watch him droll over every hip roll in her dance routine and the clarinet section were starting to draw up a betting pool on how they thought this would end. Pidge, as the clarinet section leader, should stop such behavior; however, Pidge, as a lover of watching the flaming dumpster fire that is Lance’s love life, had already placed $10 on a swift and cold rejection.

Pidge was in the last steps of rearranging D23 closer to TR1 in the finale’s drill, when everything went to shit. A click too far to the left and suddenly another of Shiro’s Word documents was opened.

“Oh shit.”

“Oh God, no.” Hunk groaned and rushed over to the computer with Lance. Pidge couldn’t even consider closing the document before Lance had his nose in it.

“Oh quiznack, you found the scores to the testing!” Lance wheezes, practically shaking Pidge in their computer chair. Huddled together, the raw scores of the seating placement from 2 months prior stares back at them. Unlike previous years, the seating placement this year was done blind behind a curtain with a testing of the major scales, a portion of a lyrical and technical exercise, and a sight-reading exercise that Band Director Coran claimed would, “Ensure a true placement and not relying on previous behavior for judgement”. He claimed that he just decided to change the method on a whim. Which would be believable if this year’s marching band assistant wasn’t Takashi Shirogane, a.k.a Shiro, a.k.a. former drum major from two years prior, and a.k.a. older adoptive brother of Keith.

Keith and Lance fought for seating placement in the same way that male peacocks compete for mates. All bravo with a potential for claws at any given moment. To be fair to Keith, it was Lance who declared themselves rivals day four of freshman band camp after being shown up following a pitiful attempt at the B Natural Major scale. Tensions only worsen when the room assignments came in for the fall term of freshmen year. While Lance got to share a room with Hunk, which he claimed was the ultimate “#dream”, the suite design of the room meant he also had to share a bathroom with Pidge and Keith. Within one week, there’s a bathroom schedule, a practice schedule, a TV schedule and a “you left the bathroom a mess, pay up” jar.

Keith, excluding some overly expensive face mask residue in the sink related incidents, didn’t pay any mind to Lance until a seat placement testing landed Lance a seat ahead of Keith their sophomore concert season. One full season of rubbing it in Keith’s face and Lance was put back in his place behind Keith the marching season of junior year.

Lance spent the better half of his junior marching season kicking over Keith’s TR3 dot when he thought no one was looking before returning to TR4.

On the bus ride home from the last marching contest of junior year (they ranked 3rd and Hunk got to carry the trophy onto the bus while claiming the tuba bassline brought this award home) the flutes and clarinets ran a yet another betting pool. This pool was in regards to whether or not the upcoming junior concert season seat placement testing would result in blows if Lance was placed behind Keith once again. Fortunately, or unfortunately if you asked Pidge’s wallet, Lance was placed behind Keith with little initial fanfare. Following the announcement at the end of the first practice of concert season, Lance simply grew quiet and quickly excused himself. There was no pompous attitude, no over the top declarations of the system being rigged and no mullet jokes.

Just a quiet and quick retreat.

They figured he needed some space.

Class was soon dismissed and the world was much more monochromatic then Pidge remembered before practice. Dark grey clouds formed above as the winds swirled leaves around the concrete path. The beginning of November had taken a turn for the wet as temperatures hadn’t dip down far enough for a beautiful winter’s snow fall and instead stagnated at a slushy wet mess of half frozen water.

No one spoke the whole walk home.

The tension from the assignments settled and clung to them. It was as if the air itself choked out any attempts for conversation. They arrived at Hunk and Lance’s room first, and following a quick look around Hunk confirmed that Lance isn’t back yet. Keith huffed and shifted uncomfortably next to them. From the corner of their eye, Pidge could see Keith nervously tap out the lyrical piece from earlier testing on his jeans.

“He probably just went to eat.”

He stuck his hands into his coat pockets and shifted his weight onto his other foot. Before anyone could respond, Keith continued.

“I think the café is doing Taco Tuesday; he’s most likely just loading up.”

With this, Keith shifted his gaze downwards and away from Hunk’s concerned expression. His hand gripped the handle of his trumpet case hard. Pidge wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince them or himself.

Either way one thing was clear, no one was buying it.

“Ya—yah.” Hunk shrugged and leaned into the doorframe. “I’ll shoot him a text; but….yah…you probably right, Keith.” Hunk hunched over the doorframe in benign acceptance. With this Pidge raises an eyebrow in disbelief. Standing between the boys, Pidge’s stomach begins to drop as the first blossoms of worry bloom. A dull roar went off behind them as the comforting sounds of rain began outside.

“I’m---I’m going to…” for a moment Keith’s eyes drift down to his case and it is then that Pidge remembers that it’s currently Keith’s practice hour according to the suitemate agreement. He seems to consider it before wearily looking away.

“I’m-ma get started on my homework.” Keith mumbles into his red scarf. He doesn’t wait for a response, and takes off towards the room. Hunk lets out a small noise of disappointment before looking towards the window.

“With this rain, he’ll be home soon-“ Hunk breaks his sentence and meets their eyes, “-right, Pidge?”

For a moment, Pidge wants to panic. Panic that Lance has been missing in action for almost 45 minutes now without so much of a text or Facebook update to the world on his misery regarding the section placement test. For a moment, they want to look at the facts. Facts that proclaim that Lance’s behavior was so out of character that they should go out to look for him. For a moment, they want to tell the truth.

But, Hunk’s eyes look back with a face of hope with just a tinge of worry that Pidge can’t destroy.

“With this rain?” They throw in a chuckle for an air of nonchalance, “He’ll probably be home in no time.” They force the words out as sweetly as possible. So sweet and artificial that their teeth will hurt following this.

Hunk smiles and heads into his room. Heading back to their dorm with Keith; Pidge manages to busy themselves with homework for roughly an hour before there’s a knocking on the bathroom door. Glancing over at Keith, he has the nerve to make eye contact and roll over on his bed thus forcing Pidge to get it. Hunk’s phone enters the room before he does, worried expression glued to his face. Hunk was shaking his phone so violently it took a moment for Pidge’s vision to focus in on the detail at hand. The Facebook app lights up with a photo posted 2 minutes beforehand featuring of one of the many bus stops on campus with the simple caption:

_Running away from your feelings is stupid and being trapped in a bus rest is the worst D:_

Pidge was already getting their shoes on when Keith huffs, “You know, he’s probably just doing this for attention right?”

Hunk and Pidge still went after him.

According to Hunk’s phone, their campus had 12 separate bus stops scattered throughout. Figuring the depressed trumpet player couldn’t have gotten fair, Pidge and Hunk took off in different directions to better their chances of finding him. A warm green scarf and dark brown peacoat, did little against the icy rain and cutting wind. Within five minutes, Pidge was desperate for a warm salivation. The storm had begun coming down in sheets, strengthening their determination to get the fuck out of here. Just as the sweet allure of giving up and finding shelter almost grew too powerful, Pidge found him.

From over 20 feet away, Pidge could see Lance sitting at the bus stop with Keith of all people.

Over the deafening rain, they were too far to hear their conversation; however, something in their gut told them not to intrude. If Lance was going to get over his issues, its best he does it now rather than later. Taking coverage behind a nearby tree (lightening be damned to heck), Pidge analyzed the scene before them.

By this point in the evening, the light inside the booth had flickered on emitting a warm glow over the boys. Even from a distance, Pidge could tell that Lance was drenched. His white and blue shirt had gone see-through as it clung to even indent on the boy’s frame. His dark blue jeans looked black from excess ran water. Lance’s hair was practically glued to the sides of his face as random curls sprouted from the top of his head. Lance complained when his socks got damp once at Disney world; this level of wetness should have been a layer of hell. Pidge expected to hear his fiery complaints from across the courtyard.

But he wasn’t complaining; quite the opposite.

Lance threw his head back and roared in laughter at something that Keith said. Even Keith was barely holding back his huffs.

It was then that Pidge’s worry lessened enough to take in Keith. The first thing that caught their eyes was how close they were. Keith clearly bundled up in a hurry as his favorite bright red jacket buttons were disarray and his zipper pulled up only 1/3 of the way. The water caused the jacket to darken into a maroon color as it dripped onto the bus bench. His usual mullet due to wetness curled around his neck and clung to him like a second skin. Sitting on the bench sideways, Keith held a piece of black cloth (a jacket??) in his hands towards Lance. Pidge could see Keith’s lips move and suddenly Lance grew very tense. The remnants laughter faded away from his face as every part of his upper body tensed into itself.

Lance shook his head and pushed the fabric away from him.

Keith shoved back beginning a game of tug a war between the two. Pidge itched closer, trying to hear tidbits of conversation when Lance exploded.

“I DON’T NEED NOR WANT YOUR HELP! I CAN HANDLE MYSELF!”

In a violent flurry of movement, Lance ripped the jacket out of Keith’s hands and tossed it into the bus stop before them. A fast-moving current of water snatched it up before Pidge could even exhale, dragging it quickly down the road. Keith was on his feet instantly. Fumbling, he took off his red jacket and wrapped it around Lance’s shoulders before taking off after the black jacket. Lance sat stunned before zipping up and chasing after him. Every step he took, Pidge could hear Lance calling out for Keith between the splashes of water. Whether it was to apologize or to simply slow down, was unknown to them. Once the boys faded from sight, Pidge knew that they either should follow or cut their losses there for the evening.

Pidge decided to call it there and get a taco.

It was an emotionally draining day and they were a bit loss of the scene that just unfolded before them. They deserved a taco.

For the most part, everything turned out okay that night.

Keith and Lance came home an hour later soaked to the bone. Neither one had the black jacket that had floated away. Pidge decided not to bring it up. Hunk was convinced they would both catch the plague while Lance just joked about welcoming death since Keith had authority over him. Ordinarily, they would feel a need to callout such a joke but Pidge couldn’t feel any malice behind it. That night they had a ramen potluck and Lance played nice following a shower. He even discussed music he was excited for this concert season.

For a few days following the selection, suite 2B was peaceful.

Then one morning Hunk and Lance decided to wake the suite via the Pink Panther theme (it wasn’t meant to be played by brass whatsoever) at 6 am and all sense of peace evaporated by the chorus. Keith demanded to know if Lance was born to pester at unholy hours and Lance retorted by asking why he would be bothered if vampires never sleep.

Pidge groaned as normalcy returned to the suite.

Atleast, it was cool while it lasted.

“Wait!” Lance’s voice shot Pidge’s mind back to the present as they leaned over their shoulder. Tapping hard on their shoulder, Lance frantically said, “Can you scroll back up a sec? Just back to trumpets you skipped it on accident.”

Pidge rolled their eyes, “There was purpose there.”

Lance scoffed, “First of all---rude.” Scrolling back up, Pidge stumbled upon the trumpet placement between flutes and xylophones (because what is organization, Shiro??).

Trumpet Blind Placement Scores                                                    Key

1\. Player 4 160.00                                                                         Player 1 Daniel

2\. Player 6 158.00                                                                         Player 2 Vince

3\. Player 5 132.50                                                                         Player 3 Larmina

4\. Player 1 130.00                                                                         Player 4 Keith

5\. Player 7 111.00                                                                         Player 5 Ben

6\. Player 3 100.00                                                                         Player 6 Lance

7\. Player 9 100.00                                                                         Player 7 Rolo

8\. Player 10 95.00                                                                         Player 8 Lotor

9\. Player 2 93.00                                                                           Player 9 Manset

10\. Player 8 90.00                                                                         Player 10 Wade

Lance’s hand squuezes Pidge’s shoulder.

His boney fingers dig deep to the point of almost pain.

“LANCE!” Pidge howls while prying his hand off, “ The actual fuck is wrong with you?”

Twisting their chair around, Pidge is taken aback by Lance’s face. All the color has drained from his cheeks as his jaw hangs open. His eyes are intently focused onto the computer, reading and re-reading the screen over and over again. For a moment, Pidge is unsure what could have gripped him in such a matter and turns back around to investigate.

Player 4 got a perfect score.

So Lance couldn’t be upset he scored high enough.

Hell he beat Player 6 by two points. Player 6 obviously being Keith due to the current placement. Their eyes glide over the key to reconfirm.

Player 6 was….

“Lance?”

His name comes out shaky and unsure. A momentary disconnect from their brain to their lips caused the name to spill out. There was no attempt to comfort, how in the hell would they given this, just a name escaped form shock.

Written in black and white right before them was a major band upset.

“I’m---I’m not the section leader?”

His voice is rough and hollow; however, before Pidge can even get even the smallest comfort out, the office’s lights flicker on. Turning their head, Assistant Director Shiro and Dance Instructor Allura gaze back at them with confused stares and takeout bags in hand.

Hunk’s hands shoot up in the air in defeat, “I would first and foremost like to state that I was against this from the beginning.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well....what ya think? I plan this to be very short (2/3 chapters at max) and I just find it cute. I was in band all through middle and high school so this is very nostalgic for me.


End file.
